What am I?

Inspired by Who are you?

a mischievous whistle over a tidy river. 

the last arrow in your quiver.
an image that you finally delete.

a thought, you thought you could cheat.
a nameplate that you throw away.

a favorite song you've forgotten. 

a favorite dress made of cotton.

a battle you wished you had won.

your many loves hidden in one.
a sleepless night spent over a silly fight.

a dog's loose fur.

a cat's loving purr.
a faded garden of books.

your corner among many nooks.
the last scent of your past loves.

an old pen that you still keep.
a pair of Hawai chappals cheap.
a call of the wild.

still a growing child...

a snowflake made of fractals.

born of stardust, 

on Earth's crust, 

out of lust,
someone's living trust.
a human universe made of halos.

A hill of beans

Neither the problem nor the solution exists outside our minds. Our small, narrow minds. 

Climate change. Overpopulation. Serial killers. Abusers. Tyrants. Dictators. Wars. Famine. Floods. 

Most of these 'problems' are all caused by us but impact other life forms on Earth as well. That's the only true tragedy. One species causes the destruction of so many other species purely because of 'our progress', and not because of 'our evolution' is the real tragedy.

Most of the 'solutions' to these problems, caused by us, impact only us; that is also a consequential tragedy.

Our existence is a mere blip in time. All our history, nostalgia, and good old days, all amount to nothing. 

Just a hill of beans. 

Just like individual cells live and die in 'our body', so do 'we' live and die in 'this body'. 

Our impermanence is real. The flux is true. 

Birth and death are mere words in languages we've invented that have no meaning beyond them. 

We're just 'vibrations' that seem real only to dissolve into that which we emerged from. 

A million times

When memories dried and dead 
Are awakened
At night, as nightmares
Only to be forgotten again,
A million times...

When life cuts your 
Heart out to dry
Under a scorching sun,
A million times...

Know that love 
Was served to you
On the bleeding edge 
Of a kitchen knife, 
And not on a silver platter,
A million times...

Till an oven bakes love for you
Into perfection
A million times...

Ad Astra

A journey towards outer space is truly an exploration of inner space. Both are truly deep.

Both have basic and fundamentally deeper questions, which still seek answers irrespective of the questioner and when and where it was asked.

For I think, only when we journey into deep space we're truly beholding the journey on Earth too. How lonely, how transitory, how insignificant our life and its pursuits are.

How most individual humans' thoughts are similar to collective humanity's views: selfishness, utter helplessness, loneliness, past remembrances, reminiscences, the path ahead, the will to survive et al.

How the proverbial sins of the father (forefathers) affect the son(s)... Whether we are in orbit at the outer edges of the solar system or in motion on Earth, we're always in search. Seeking an end to our loneliness, a permanent home perhaps.

Where truly is our home? Are we not forever on a journey inside and outside? Aren't we always traveling without ever arriving?

Isn't this planet we think of as home also just a spaceship at the edge of the Milky Way, part of our known universe? Aren't we all truly just astronauts within, hurtling through space?

We have to make this journey count for no one else can do it for us. But I don't know how... How to make it count? 

the extent of infinity

days have passed

the sun has risen and dipped
in place of the moon
yet, i haven't known the extent
of my love for you;
you haven't known the extent

of your love for me.

yes, you. 

you, of the color of the earth
for even flowers confuse you for
home.
am just a-bee!

James Webb shows 
we're just markers on
rules set for us by time.
we had to collide:
even our briefest moment together
lasts the longest in our minds.

to spend a lifetime together,
you must want to spend an eternity
with yourself. 
And so like me, love yourself because of you
in me, me in you.

Like me, remove the walls around you
brick by brick
And let's watch love grow and 
bloom together:
in our once-solitary sanctuary.

let's catch the falling stars,
the distant galaxies,
and sprinkle them on all the stardust in our love,
while inside us,
we teleport
some magic,
some chaos,
and some poetry.

i hope to end
our life together,
like we started,
in truth.

May our love alone continue...
And, this poem too.

A poem to a poetry in motion

A word is not enough, 
Unspoken, unwritten is she.

A noble deed born,
Undone, done, reborn.

A seed, a flower, a mother,
Blooming, withering, budding again.

A wind, a tree, an ocean
Blowing, growing, burdening,
Again and again.

Her eyes contain the universe,
In which is my small world,
Which I try to capture
With my small words...

In which my love 
Is born, blows, blooms, grows, and with
Her each unspoken word,
It burdens itself.

For my words can't carry the weight
Of this entire poem.

This feeble poem on a
Poetry in motion, known better as the seed of the flower that becomes a tree, which burdens the ocean in parts. 

My cinnamom, my humble pride.

Thehraav

What a word!

Like I can make love to her and watch her orgasm.

And be still in her stillness,

Inside and outside.

Thehraav.

Ghar ban jaate hain...

Is kiraye ki bhoomi par
Kahin kiraye ke makaano mein
Rahaa hu mein.

Kabhi doston ke ghar par, 
Kabhi ajnabeeyon ke dilon mein,
Kabhi raaston ke kinare,
Kabhi nadiyon ke kinare.

Kabhi kis dhun ke leher par,
Kabhi kisike mutti ke uss paar,
Kabhi hosh mein,
Kabhi aaghosh mein.

Ab, koi yeh batlayein kii inn
24 makaano mein 
Mera ghar kaunsa tha?
Meri yaadein kahaan rehte hain?

Jab kiraye ke makaanon mein, 
Hum yaadein banaa lete hain, 
Tab, kya wah makaan ghar ban jaata hain?

Makaan mein jab hum kisi se pyaar karte hain,
Kisika intezaar karte hain,
Tab, kya wah makaan ghar ban jaata hain?

Ro, ro kar jab phir ek baar
Jeene kii ummeed rakhte hain,
Kya tab wah theekana,
Uss musafir ke liye ghar ban jaata hain?

Iss ghumti hui bhoomi par,
Ek chotaa sa aasmaan hum basaate hain,
Tab, kya wah aasman ghar ban jaata hain?

Gharonda kya deewaron se banta hain,
Kii chatt se?
Kii pairon ke neeche jo zameen hain,
Us se?

Jab koi makaan ke darwaaze ke upar 
Aapka naam likha jaata hain,
Tab, kya wah ghar aapka ho jaata hain?

Kiraye kii shareer mein,
Doosro ke mann mein,
Kahiyon ke sawaalon ko dhundthe hue,
Jab hum kahiyon ke jawaabon ko leker
Khud ek sawaal ban jaate hain,

Tab, kya wah sawaal aur uss sawaal ka
Jawaab ghar ban jaata hain?

Obscure Sorrows

Life's a wonder,

In life, I ponder.

Forever, the seas and skies

Outside and inside, my mind races into the 

Wide blue yonder. 

Even beyond her.

As the still mind wander(s),

And we grow through age and time, to each other, fonder.

I hear a sudden peal of thunder:

Sonder.